


how does your garden grow ?

by TransNoahMaxwell



Category: Tribe Twelve
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake Character Death, Multi, yeah so this is gonna b FUN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-06 10:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransNoahMaxwell/pseuds/TransNoahMaxwell
Summary: milo asher is a free man. he's living his best life, working in a flower shop. he's actually living, instead of just surviving between mary and john. there's only one problem. he has no friends.sort of self-indulgent au. will follow canon events, but will not obey it fully. please enjoy!





	1. quite contrary

**Author's Note:**

> if the flower meanings are not right i am truly sorry!

it had been a year. a year after he escaped from his mom, faking his death, and severing all ties with the life he used to know. it had been a year, but to milo asher, it was eons. every day that passed, he felt increasingly lonely, despite being a mostly solitary guy.

he missed them. he missed his friends. maybe milo missed certain people more. noah. kevin. smoke curls away from his lips, as he watches an occasional lone car pass through the country road. it was early morning, and he was standing on the balcony of a motel, in his pajamas. it was liberating.

he felt so free. around this time earlier, he’d been a wreck, nervous, scared to death that any moment his mom could find him. that Mr. Slim would find him. these thoughts now seem distant, just like his old house in alabama. 

milo still felt guilty. as he finishes his cigarette, he accepts the thought, mulling it over. why was he guilty? for abandoning his family. or what he perceived as abandonment. it was sad, but a part of him still thought of mary as his mother. the scared little boy who just wanted a mother, a good one, was still clinging onto that pipe dream. he longed to be safe in someone’s arms, platonically or otherwise. flicking the cigarette down, he stomps it out, before stretching.

milo heads inside then, and tosses his uniform on. he decided he rather liked his new life. he’s currently working at a flower shop in town, and was hunting for an apartment near it. 

he’d not been able to take his car, because it would’ve been suspicious if he had. instead, every morning he waits at the bus stop, next to an old Indian woman. 

“you remind me of someone.” she croaks, her hands shaking as she removes her bus pass, he sari fold sweeping the ground.

“i have that kind of face.” he responds quietly, shouldering his bag.

“some do.” she says, with a note of finality. her bus arrives, and he is left to muse that on his own. the 6am light casts everything in a yellow-pink haze, as it drives through the awakening city.

milo sighs, and collects his wits, as it screeches to a halt. another day, another worry.

-

the flower shop is possibly one of the best medications he’s ever been on. he stands among many different types of plants, and each of them has a neat schedule. boxes upon boxes to be checked and kept tidy. 

today, the bell rang 10 times. a businesswoman, a group of school-age kids, a new father, a mourning group, a priest, and several ambiguous, anonymous people. it was so easy to help these people, to give them what they needed, and wave them out. 

milo uses his newly found gardening talent to envision what he would do, if he were able to go back. he didn’t know if anyone visited his ‘grave’, (“noah would.” some part of him whispers, “of course he would. he misses me.”). the least conspicuous way to drop a hint with a bouquet.

iris. white poppy. dandelion.

milo envisions a reality where he could go back. he imagines going back to the place he’d never felt like a stranger in, arriving to his cousin’s bone-crushing hug. although, noah was just as likely to punch him. he sweeps up fallen petals, and snorts at the thought. knowing his baby cousin, noah’d punch him, and then hug him so tight, his ribs would ache for the rest of the day.

god, he misses noah.

and kevin…. well. his feelings for the man were complicated and messy, but he would do anything to spend another day with him. kevin was his best friend, his first kiss. they were in 7th grade, and were curious about what it felt like to kiss. was it really miraculous like all the fanfictions claimed? so there, on milo’s dark blue bed, with a computer between them, kevin got closer, and closer. until their lips met, and they pecked, quick and clumsy. 

yeah. he misses kevin too.

milo, despite these nostalgic memories, steadies himself. he’s supposed to be happy now. he has to be, if he got away. milo quickly dismisses the last thought, arguing he was happy…

..he’s just lonesome. 

as he locks up the shop, and walks to the bus stop, he sighs and resigns himself to what he was itching to do. check his friends’ social media. 

walking into the motel was more of a relief, as he pulls out his computer, struggling to remember noah’s youtube name. in another tab, he googles ‘kevin haas’. 

milo smiles wistfully as his pictures load up. kevin was growing his hair out again, and definitely had new frames. his eyes were tired, but his cheeks were split into a wide grin. to be on the receiving end of that look must’ve been a hell of a time.

he gives up on noah’s youtube, but not before promising to find it later. he didn’t want to forget.


	2. twelve tribes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nobdy:   
> not a single soul:   
> absolutely no one reading this fic:   
> me: random slenderverse oc time!

TribeTwelve. that was the channel name. his cursor hovers over the first video, and he gnaws on his lip, a childhood habit that he never gave up. milo finally bites, the metaphorical hook snagging him. he's not ashamed to say his throat tightened up, and his face grew warm, as tears streamed down his face. milo had never been a loud cryer, even as a baby, his cries were small and feeble, like his lungs couldn't put out as much as they took in, ever inflating. 

 

noah blames himself. well. partially. but milo knew his cousin, he knew that noah was probably guilty and grieving him. he's suspected the other man would miss him but not to this extent. he cries himself silly, until his chest hurts too much to continue his little pityparty. 

 

so he falls asleep there, on a video of him and noah, being relatively calm and happy on the boardwalk. his head is cradled by his arm, and he curls up, despreately wanting to be held. milo places a pillow on each side of him, blocking him in. never before, has he really felt his loneliness. through a haze of nostalgia, came the sudden overwhelming stench of solitude. he barely has any friends. his coworkers don't engage with him much. all he has are the motel staff, and the stray cat that steals his takeout.   
  
  
this is dangerous. of course it is. the world could not be kind to milo asher genuinely, it was written in the stars. it seems like everything he's ever done has been to the sick satisfcation of some third spectator.   
  
  
the ac whirrs to like, and he sighs in relief, as his negative thoughts start to slow, calmed by cool air and exhausted from crying. 

-

the next morning, his coffee tastes burnt. he ties the apron around his waist, and steps up for another shift, feeling a slight thrill as he's closing up.   
  
  
milo actually talks to someone. this is new, and he can't say he'll make a habit of it. but he enjoyed making the younger employee laugh, especially since they seemed so nervouse to be starting a new job. 

  
  
"haha. what'd they get you for?" he jokes, leaning his elbows against the table. 

"oh uh.... " the kid seems nervous, and adjusts the visor. 

"hey," he nudges him, "i'm just foolin. i'm milo. you are?" 

  
the kid smiles gratefully at him, and spouts off some random bullshit, and milo's brain cannot keep up. god, he talks a lot. this is why you don't talk to the coworkers, milo. he finds himself warming up to his coworkers, over the next few days. mira is working two jobs to support her mom. sei is a biology major at the local university, and tino is the youngest. he's 16, and ridcoulously eager to help everyone.   
-  
  
milo feels a little better, when he sinks into the armchair that night. but now, as weariness set in, he set out to discover what had happened since his departure.   
  
the next video played. and the next, until milo was caught up, eyes red-rimmed, and shaking. did he do this?   
  
did he make it worse?   
  
fuck.   
  
he wants to call noah. his finger is hovering over the button, he's to ready to press it, and call him. tell him everything. comfort him. help him. he wants to do something. anything. milo's frozen and slumped, spirit abandoning his coward's body like rats from a drowned ship.   
  
he can't do it.   
  
he can't.   
  
It's too late now. if he says anything, all could be last.   
  
he's back at square one. so much for good progress. 


End file.
